Package Deal

by Chris Chegri

  Quick lesson learned—not a good idea to butt heads with the boss during your first few weeks on the job. “Yes, sir. Of course, I want to keep my job. It’s just…never mind. I’m sorry I brought it up. Consider me gone, on my way,” she babbled on her way out the door.

  With time to spare, Kelly stopped at the electric company and changed the bill over into her name. The telephone could wait until she returned from San Francisco. With thoughts of the little house buzzing around in her mind, she took I-95 south, knowing it would be faster than taking the beach highway. She was glad Steve had left town and wouldn’t be at the Kennedy Space Center. Guilt over her outburst the previous night, chipped away at her conscience, and although she understood her anger had originated with Ken’s actions, it would be best not to see Steve so soon after breaking a wine glass, a new low for Kelly.

  When she arrived at the Kennedy Space Center—she followed the signs to the visitor’s parking lot, locked the car, and entered through the visitor’s entrance.

  Inside, relics from past space missions—some dating back to the early sixties—filled the place, perched atop pedestals, protected behind Plexiglas cases, even hanging from the ceiling. Earlier space capsules, long retired, sat among other relics, allowing visitors to look inside and consider the bravery it had taken for a man to climb into such a primitive vehicle and be hurtled toward the stars. A limited glimpse of the unlimited human imagination.

  Black and white photos of the earliest days of the space program told a visual story of America’s space exploration. Floor-to-ceiling photographs and murals of space missions and moonwalks covered the walls of the visitor’s center. Fascinated, Kelly wished she had time to look around, but the presentation started in fifteen minutes. She would have to bring Lacy to see all this, once they’d settled in.

  She headed straight to the ticket counter and flashed her News Journal ID. “Hi, I’m with the Daytona Beach News Journal. I’m here for the one o’clock—”

  Before she could finish, the man behind the desk handed her a media pass and a sheet with directions to the auditorium. She slipped the lanyard around her neck and studied the map.

  Piece of cake.

  She ventured off through the crowd of visitors, took several wrong turns, and at last found the auditorium. Waving her pass at the doorman, she hurried inside and took her seat just seconds before the doors closed and the guest lecturer approached the podium.

  The lights dimmed. The speaker, a renowned jet propulsion specialist and now EPA inspector, welcomed them all. He proceeded to tell them about jet fuel and its effect on planet Earth, particularly the miniscule piece of land occupied by Cape Canaveral. Kelly scribbled notes while he talked.

  “The good news,” he said, “is the study shows no negative effects on the surrounding area. The bad news is that military bases all over the United States are to blame for continuing to leak unhealthy amounts of a chemical called perchlorate into the water and food supplies of their surrounding areas. Various negative effects are still being studied across the country, especially around California’s military bases.”

  By the time the speaker finished, Kelly had numerous pages with notes and quotes. She stood to applaud the speaker as he left the podium.

  Following the speech, a tour guide escorted them around the complex, including the Space Flight Simulation Room, astronaut training areas, and the launch pads from which the space shuttles and Titan rockets blasted off. Next, their guide lead them on tours of the Vehicle Assembly Building, Launch Control Center, and lastly, to meet an astronaut. Kelly’s note pad filled up fast.

  On their way back to the main building and visitor’s entrance, the group cut through several buildings, at last reaching NASA’s engineering offices. They were told they would be able to ask some of the engineers and scientists questions. Deep in conversation with a journalist from the Miami Herald, Kelly looked up and spotted Steve crossing from one office to another a short way down the hall.

  Her breath caught in her throat, and she lagged back a step. He lied to me!

  “Are you okay?” The Miami journalist’s eyes narrowed with concern.

  “Uh, yeah… uh, I think I stepped on something.” Kelly bent over, pretending to examine the floor beneath her feet. “Hmm, don’t see anything.”

  He didn’t leave town after all. She fumed. Apparently, Steve McCarthy wasn’t as attracted to her as she’d imagined.

  “It shouldn’t surprise me. He’s a man,” she mumbled, habitual distrust and suspicion churning up a lifetime of unhappy memories.

  “What?” the girl at her side asked.

  “Nothing,” Kelly replied. “Sorry. I was just thinking out loud.”

  The group inched along at a snail’s pace, crowding the narrow hallway. Just ahead, Steve and another man appeared from an office on the right. The tour guide stopped to speak to the two men, and the media members slowed to a halt. Kelly tensed and looked around for an exit, wanting to leave as fast as possible.

  Hands held high to get the group’s attention, the guide said, “Can I have your attention, please? This is Steve McCarthy. Steve is our resident cryogenic physicist. He knows cold like Nike knows shoes.”

  Soft laughter ruffled though the group. Kelly rolled her eyes.

  “And this is Jim Harvey, one of our jet propulsion specialists. Jim helped design today’s program for you. Now, these two guys are busy but have offered to answer a few questions if you have any.”

  A few hands shot into the air.

  “Mr. McCarthy, what does cryogenics have to do with space travel?” someone asked.

  “Cryogenics is more than just freezing bodies,” Steve said. “One of the areas I work in is Cryogenic Fluid Management, known as CFM. It’s an essential and very critical part of our manned and unmanned missions and future planetary exploration. The temperatures in space can reach minus four hundred and fifty-nine degrees Fahrenheit—unimaginable to us. Liquids freeze long before reaching that temperature, making it a challenge to keep—“

  Kelly heard him talking, but she wasn’t listening. She ducked behind the back of the group and tried to hide. She didn’t want him to see her. She didn’t feel up to his excuses for lying to her. If he didn’t want to see her, he should have just said so, instead of telling her he had a business trip.

  She peeked over the group. Steve had finished talking, and the other man asked for questions. Kelly wasn’t so much mad, as hurt, the sting of rejection a familiar feeling. She just wanted to disappear, walk off in the opposite direction, but she didn’t know the way out.

  The group bulged ahead, and Steve, about to go back into his office, glanced in her direction. She looked down quickly, hoping he hadn’t seen her.

  “Kelly!”

  Oh God! Nowhere to run.

  “Hey! Hi.” He sidled up beside her. “I didn’t know you’d be down here today. What a surprise.”

  She iced over. “I’m sure it is.”

  He was such a bad actor. He should have been embarrassed, offering awkward excuses. She tried to move past him, but he stepped in front of her.

  “Whoa. What’s the rush?” Steve held his hands up to stop her. “Can we visit for a minute?”

  She refused to make eye contact. “My tour group is leaving.”

  The group continued down the hall without her.

  “I’m sure they won’t miss you, but I will.”

  Kelly gave in and looked at him.

  He smiled and reached for her hand. “You’re a pleasant surprise in what has been, so far, a boring day. Stay a minute. I’ll walk you out.”

  She avoided his touch, but the warmth of his eyes sucked her in. “So, why aren’t you in Houston?” she asked, still guarded.

  “They canceled my trip until Wednesday.”

  Relief washed over her, all panic dispelled in an instant. He hadn’t lied after all. It was a simple misunderstanding. Why did she always think the worst? Taking a huge leap of faith, she offered her hand.

  He
laced his fingers through hers and pulled her into his office. “I planned to call you later and see if you wanted to have dinner with me.”

  “I don’t have plans,” she said, feeling almost giddy. “I don’t even have friends yet.” She laughed, comfortable with him once again.

  “Well, you have me.” His gaze lingered with affection on her face. “So, why didn’t you mention you’d be here today? You look great, by the way.”

  “Thanks.” She grinned, surprised at how much his compliment pleased her. “I didn’t know until about three hours ago. My boss asked, well, ordered me to cover the presentation at the last minute, after he realized the writer who usually covers the space station had taken vacation. I tried to say no, but that didn’t go over well.”

  Steve chuckled, dimples forming on either side of his mouth. “Can’t get a break, can you, Pearson? But, it’s my good luck.”

  She grinned. He was hard to resist, and she’d given up trying three seconds earlier.

  “I think you’ll find he’s a bear to work for.”

  Kelly’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Ted Willis?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You know him?”

  Steve leaned back on the edge of his desk, pulling her against him. “Sure, I know Willis. He’s been around Daytona forever and with the newspaper for most his life. He’s not a bad guy, just no manners. I wouldn’t let his gruff exterior scare you.”

  “Easier said than done.” Her nerves danced, being so close to him. “When I asked if he could find someone else, he threatened my job. I couldn’t believe it. Jeez, I’ve got so much to get done before I leave on Friday.”

  “Intimidation is Willis’ calling card. He threatens everyone with their job. Don’t worry about it. He’s full of hot air. You’ll be fine, and you’ll get used to his bluff.”

  “Thanks. That makes me feel a lot better. I’m glad I bumped into you.”

  “You didn’t bump into me.” He smiled mischievously. “Not yet, anyway. You were hiding from me. If you want to play hide and seek…”

  There was no mistaking his insinuation. His grin and glistening green eyes gave him away. She looked away, her mind spinning with possibilities. Her thoughts slipped back to their physical collision on the bridge and the rush of pleasure she had experienced while her body pressed against his. No. Kelly didn’t need any help fantasizing about Steve McCarthy, and the mere mention of bumping bodies sent a flurry of goose bumps shimmying along her limbs.

  “Are you hitting on me, Mr. McCarthy?”

  His grin widened. “Do you want me to?”

  She laughed out loud. “Never answer a question with a question.”

  “Okay, I plead the fifth.” His tone was playful, non-threatening. “I would like to take you to dinner tonight. What do you say?”

  “Sure, if we go Dutch treat.” She wasn’t ready for a full-fledged date yet, despite the warm, silky sensations running up and down her limbs.

  “Deal.” He brushed one hand against her cheek. “I’ll pick you up at seven. Bring your wallet.”

  Chapter Ten

  Built over the water atop a weathered pier, Mackey’s Seafood Grill delighted Kelly. Just beyond a wall of windows, the Atlantic Ocean stretched north and south, offering a breathtaking view, while the surf buffeted the tall pilings beneath the floor. A bit rustic, with lots of wood and seafaring antiquities, the restaurant abounded with ambiance.

  The perky young hostess sported a white tuxedo shirt with bow tie and a shin length black skirt. Crisp, white tablecloths and sparkling wineglasses adorned each table. Outside on the veranda, sitting high upon an elaborate perch, a large blue and gold macaw ruled one corner, surveying all below and squawking hearty hellos, good-byes and a few key phrases at the diners. The fish is good. Watch out for the bones.

  Their young waiter, also dressed in tuxedo attire, lit the candle in the center of the table. “Good evening, folks. I’m Gerald.” He handed Kelly and Steve menus. “If you have any questions, I’ll be glad to answer them.”

  Kelly pointed at the macaw. “How do you keep the bird from flying away?”

  The waiter pushed his surfer bangs from his eyes. “His wings are clipped, or he’d be halfway to South America by now. Would you like to order a drink or an appetizer?”

  “A glass of Riesling for the lady and a Miller Light for me,” Steve told him.

  They looked over the menu, ordered their entrées and relaxed in comfortable silence, watching the candle flicker in the breeze. The sun sank lower in the west, splashing the darkening sky with watercolor shades of pink, orange, and red. Kelly could only imagine how beautiful the sunrise over the water must be and promised herself to wake up early the next morning to find out. At last darkness enveloped them, and far off the coast, the lights of several shrimp boats glowed, defining the now invisible horizon.

  Kelly squinted, focusing on the tiny lights dotting the horizon. “It’s so beautiful,” she exclaimed.

  “Standard stuff around here, but I never get tired of it.”

  The waiter brought her wine and Steve’s beer.

  “I think you’ll enjoy the food, too.” Steve raised his beer bottle in a toast. “To your new job, new home, and new friends.”

  “To new memories,” she whispered under her breath, shadows moving across her heart.

  “I’m glad you came down to the Cape today,” Steve told her. “It must have been destiny. Next time I see Ted Willis, I’ll have to thank him for scaring you into it.”

  Destiny? She sat quietly, an uncomfortable band of tightness spreading across her chest. She wasn’t sure how to respond.

  After an awkward moment, Steve said, “So, do you have a photo of Lacy?”

  Kelly was pleased he’d remembered her daughter’s name. “I do. I’ve got a wallet-size first grade mug shot. Not the best photography. I could have taken it myself.”

  She dug in her purse and pulled out a small photo of her daughter. She studied the picture for a moment then touched Lacy’s face with a gentle finger stroke. Lacy meant everything to her. She looked up at Steve, smiled and handed him the photo.

  He looked at the school portrait and grinned. “Wow. She’s cute. Ear-to-ear grin and no front teeth. She looks just like you. How’d that happen?” he teased.

  “My gene pool won out.” Thank God.

  “Your ex must be a proud daddy.”

  His remark stung Kelly. “He doesn’t care. She’s only six, but he hasn’t seen her in four years. I doubt he’d even recognize her if he saw her.” Bitterness sharpened her words. “He left us before she was born.” She struggled to hide her resentment but did a lousy job.

  Steve sat back in his chair, smile gone. “Sorry I asked.”

  “No, it’s okay. It’s his loss. Lacy’s a great kid. Someday he’ll be sorry.”

  “I think her mom is pretty great, too,” Steve said, giving her a warm smile.

  She sensed he was being cautious. “Thanks.” She hated revealing her pain, but she couldn’t always control it. “Guess I’m an open book tonight. Sorry to bore you with my life drama.” She forced a smile for his sake.

  Steve reached over and covered her hand with his. “Things work out, Kelly. Really they do. I’m sure you’re a great mom. Good enough to fill his spot, too.”

  His warm hand and kind words soothed her. Still, she was relieved when the waiter returned with their dinner.

  Steve gave her a gentle pat, and she sat back in her chair, allowing the waiter space to set the plate in front of her. Blackened Mahi Mahi with vanilla sauce. It sounded delectable. She took a bite and chewed, savoring the moist, spicy fish.

  “How is it?” Steve tried his stuffed flounder.

  “It’s delicious but pretty spicy,” Kelly said between flaky morsels.

  “I should have warned you. Blackened fish has quite a kick. Maybe the wine will help.”

  Hick-up! Startled, she gasped then hiccupped again and covered her mouth. “Oh no!”

  Steve s
miled—as if nothing had happened—but when another hiccup flew from her mouth, he glanced around the patio at the other tables.

  Mortified, Kelly said, “Sorry. I’ve never eaten anything blackened before. I didn’t know it would be so hot—”

  Hick-up!

  Steve laughed. “You’re full of surprises, Pearson.” He grinned so hard his dimple disappeared.

  “Gee, I’m sorry, but I can’t stop. I have this problem—” Hick-up! “—with spicy foods.”

  Hick-up. This time the jarring spasm came out an octave higher, followed by a loud squeak, sounding like a toy mouse being stepped on. She pressed her napkin over her mouth, afraid to say another word.

  “My fault. I didn’t even think about the fish being too hot,” he said.

  “Too late.” She stifled another hiccup with her napkin.

  His eyes danced with amusement. “It’s okay. Don’t be embarrassed, though it’s a bit unusu—”

  Before he could finish, she did it again. Hick-up! Steve choked on a laugh.

  Kelly chugged the dregs of her ice water, hoping to freeze whatever body part was in spasm. Vocal cords, diaphragm? She had no idea and had never mentioned the problem to a doctor, despite suffering for years.

  “I try to avoid spicy foods.” Hick-up! “Oh my God! I think it’s an allergy. Black pepper is the worst.” She wanted to crawl under the table, but didn’t of course, glancing instead at Steve’s water.

  He pushed the glass toward her. “Go ahead.”

  She drank most of it, hoping to drown the hiccups.

  Both glasses empty, she sat for a minute without making a sound. Waiting. Finally, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Phew. That was terrible.”

  Without warning, she hiccupped again, a high screeching sound. Steve’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

  “Oh, come on,” she groaned. “Quick, hand me some sugar.”

  Steve eyed her as if she were crazy but handed her two sugars. “What’s that going to do?”

  “Some—” Hick-up!“—times it helps.” She tore open the pack and poured the contents into her mouth. When Steve’s expression became quizzical, she giggled mid-hiccup. “Appar—” Hick-up. She struggled to get the words out. “Apparentlyitsnotworking.” She rattled off the sentence so fast it came out one long word.